


Need

by sub_textual



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Blindfolds, Edgeplay, Exhibitionism, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Praise Kink, Public Sex, Viktor and Yuuri fuck in a public bathroom at the GPF banquet, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-01
Updated: 2017-02-01
Packaged: 2018-09-21 06:34:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9536057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sub_textual/pseuds/sub_textual
Summary: What stands before Viktor now isn’t at all the Yuuri that had stripped off his clothes in front of a hundred people. This is Yuuri, beautiful and blushing, shy in all the ways Viktor knows he isn’t, too embarrassed to express what he really wants. This is Yuuri, abandoning the clasp of Viktor’s pants, to slowly undo Viktor’s tie. This is Yuuri, desperate and needy, ripe and ready for the taking, and he’s all Viktor’s.





	

**Author's Note:**

> **edited by[powerandpathos](http://archiveofourown.org/users/powerandpathos)**  
> 

“ _Let’s dance.”_

There are many things about Yuuri that Viktor loves.

Here is a list: the shape of Yuuri’s mouth when he’s drunk — wild, curling, bruised with wine. The bright glow of his cheekbones, red brushing down the hot curve of his neck. The flutter, _surge_ of his pulse, his blood rushing like white water rapids under Viktor’s palm. The press of his arms, and the heat of his skin, and the taste of his breath whispering across Viktor’s lips. _Let’s dance_ , he laughs, like music in Viktor’s ears, his fingers grasping, tangling in Viktor’s hair. His eyes hold the secret to the universe, the wide-open spaces between the stars, the madness of gravity that pulls Viktor into his arms. Against the curve of his body, every inch of it, warm and waiting and wanting.

Viktor loves. Sometimes, he thinks it’s too much, the feeling of it.

Sometimes, when he stands at the edge of the rink, watching Yuuri flow through the steps of his program, he wants to shout his love aloud to the world. He wants the world to love Yuuri, too. Let them all love him, as much as Viktor does. Let them all love him, the way Yuuri deserves.

But there are times, when Viktor doesn’t want to share. When he wants to keep the wild, curling edges of Yuuri’s smile to himself. When the brightness in his eyes, and the way Yuuri arches his spine, is a secret Viktor doesn’t want anyone else to know.

When he wants Yuuri to belong to him, and him alone.

The banquet hall pulses with music and laughter.

It resembles nothing of the stuffy, buttoned-up black tie affair it’s meant to be.

All around them, people are dancing, ties loosened, collars open. The ladies have given up on their heels, barefoot on the lacquered floor, hands clapping overhead. Yuuri had lost his jacket and his shirt to the dance floor some time ago, a bottle of champagne leaving him uninhibited and loose and beautiful in a way that Viktor doesn’t want anyone else to see. Yuuri’s already shared too much of himself tonight — the slight, sculpted lines of his body, the creamy white of his skin.

Yuuri presses himself against Viktor, and tries to drag him back out to the dance floor.

Christophe has somehow, once again, managed to set up a stripper pole, and Yuuri’s eyes dangerously track in its direction.

Viktor can see it, already: Yuuri wearing nothing but his tie and a pair of black briefs, muscles rippling in motion. His body would be a long, sinuous line of raw sensuality, skin glowing with a thin sheen of sweat. It would be beautiful. Breathtaking.

But tonight, Viktor doesn’t want anyone else to have this.

“Viktor.” Yuuri’s voice is breathless as Viktor takes his hand and drags him away from the dance floor, Yuuri’s discarded shirt and jacket in his other hand. “Where are we _going_?”

Viktor doesn’t respond. His steps are steady and focused, as he pulls Yuuri behind him, away from the music. They make their way down the hall, the thrum of bass resounding against their backs.

The door of the bathroom swings open. It’s the bathroom furthest from the banquet hall, and as expected, it’s empty. Viktor pulls Yuuri, full of bright, confused laughter into the bathroom, the door swinging shut behind them.

“ _Viktoooor_...” Yuuri’s voice is a plaintive whine, his fingers pulling at the lapels of Viktor’s jacket. “I wanna dance. I wanna _drink._ Let’s go _baaack_.”  

“Yuuri,” Viktor says, patient and steady, “I think you’ve had too much. Let’s get you dressed and go back to the hotel.”

Yuuri frowns at the suggestion, his mouth transforming with a pout. “But I don’t want to go back to the hotel.”

Viktor had expected that Yuuri would be difficult, but he doesn’t expect this: Yuuri’s fingers, slowly tugging him forward, until he can feel the heat of Yuuri’s skin through the fabric of his clothing. Yuuri’s breath, steaming hot across the curve of his mouth, as the pout transforms into a dark, sultry smirk.

“I want to stay here,” Yuuri whispers, his voice like wine spilling over velvet, “with you.”  

Yuuri’s hand flattens against Viktor’s chest; strokes down the length of his torso. His eyes spark, and send a hot pulse of _want_ down Viktor’s spine, curling somewhere at the base of his stomach. Yuuri’s smirk is a wild, beautiful thing, and all Viktor wants to do is taste it. But he can smell the sweetness of wine on Yuuri’s breath, see it in the high flush that brushes all the way down Yuuri’s chest.

“Yuuri…” Viktor’s voice is a note of warning, strained with longing. “You’re too drunk. We can’t—”

“I’m not too drunk,” Yuuri counters, his voice suddenly as clear as the sky. “I’m just happy,” he says, as his fingers curl around the buckle of Viktor’s belt and drags him forward. “If I were too drunk, would I be able to do _this_?”

Pleasure, hot and bright, pulses straight through Viktor’s body, when Yuuri’s fingers grip him through his pants and _squeezes_. Viktor can’t stop the groan that catches in his throat, or the way his hips stutter forward, to press more of himself into Yuuri’s palm. He shudders, wanting the promise Yuuri’s long, stroking fingers hold. Wanting to plunge into the lovely curve of his mouth, until Yuuri’s lips are swollen and bruised.

Maybe he could take him right here on the cold tile — push Yuuri down to his knees, and revel in the lurid stretch of his lips. Yuuri’s mouth would be hot, and wet, and _perfect,_ and Viktor can almost feel it, circling around the very root of him. Yuuri always looks so damn good on his knees, his eyes lust-blown and glazed with need, precome and spit trickling down his chin. And the way he gasps when Viktor’s cock hits the back of his _throat—_

“Yuuri—” Viktor chokes out, his breath ragged in his throat. “We shouldn’t—” His fingers curl over Yuuri’s bare shoulder, for something to hold onto. Yuuri’s jacket and shirt lay abandoned on the floor next to his feet.   

Yuuri’s thumb circles the head of Viktor’s cock lazily through his pants, fingers gliding down to sweetly let the heel of his palm crush against the weight of Viktor’s balls.

“ _Yes_ ,” Yuuri breathes out against Viktor’s mouth. “We should.” His fingers squeeze him the way Viktor likes, and Viktor curses, bucking into Yuuri’s hand, before his fingers find traction on Yuuri’s shoulder — and pushes him away. Places enough distance between them so that Yuuri’s fingers can’t reach.

The sound of their breaths fills up the space between them.

“Viktor.” Yuuri’s mouth is curved with a playful smirk, and he unwinds the tie around his head, stretching the silk out between his hands. He pushes against Viktor’s palm, easily stepping back into his space. “I know it’s not a gold medal, but I’ve thought of something that you can kiss,” he says, looping the tie around the back of Viktor’s neck. Slowly, he pulls. “Something that would… _excite_ you.”

Yuuri’s chin tilts up, lips parting in invitation, lashes falling to half-mast behind his glasses.

Viktor stares down at him, the pieces suddenly falling into place.

Yuuri had wanted this all along. Had probably planned for this to happen, or at least some level of it. He had made sure to drink just enough to make himself wine-warm and flushed, loose with liquid courage. He had taken off enough clothing, and shown just enough skin to ensure Viktor wouldn’t be able to take his eyes off of him.

And Viktor had fallen for it, completely.

 

*

 

There are many things about Viktor that Yuuri loves.

Here is a list: the way fire flickers under the cool, blue surface of Viktor’s eyes when he’s aroused — hot, dangerous, filled with delicious promise. The heat of his fingers as they press into Yuuri’s skin, curling around his shoulders, holding him where he belongs. The gravel of his voice when he fights back a moan — rough, hungry, and verging on the edge of something dark and wild and breathless. The way he touches him, and draws him in, like the moon pulling on the earth — Yuuri’s tides shifting, growing, rising to meet him; sometimes, slow and unhurried and sweet like the waves under a clear, blue sky. Other times, like now, furious and relentless and dark.

Yuuri loves. Sometimes, he thinks it’s too much, the feeling of it.

Sometimes, all he wants is to open his mouth and let himself drown in it.

 

*

 

A low laugh reverberates at the back of Viktor’s throat, and Yuuri’s brows pinch together slightly, and he pulls back a little. His eyes search Viktor’s, and the look in them is the same as what spikes through his gaze when he slips on ice. He had clearly expected that Viktor was going to go in for the kiss. Had probably thought, triumphantly, that he’d somehow managed to win. But instead, Viktor just _laughed_.

“Viktor…?”

Viktor can see the wheels in Yuuri’s head turning, the way he’s starting to second-guess his actions. The ballsy confidence that had carved the softness of his mouth into a smirk, that had driven him to curl his fingers around Viktor’s cock in a public bathroom, slowly starts to erode. Yuuri looks a little lost, a little uncertain, and the growing flush on his cheeks has less to do with arousal or alcohol, than it does with slowly-growing embarrassment.

Viktor couldn’t possibly love him more.

“Yuuri~” Viktor’s voice is a lilting tease as he leans in, his fingers stripping the necktie off, silk whispering across his skin. “Is this what you were thinking about, when I asked you for a suggestion that would _excite_ me? How _naughty…_ ”

Yuuri’s eyes widen in surprise, his cheeks flushing bright. Viktor watches the tremble that breaks through his frame, a hot shudder of shame licking its way down Yuuri’s spine. Yuuri is unsteady, unfocused, a skater without balance, the ice moving too quickly beneath his feet, and he doesn’t seem to know where to catch his fall, or where to put his eyes. His gaze drops off Viktor’s face, down to his chest, as though staring at something that isn’t Viktor’s eyes would soften the blow. Viktor knows exactly what’s happening: Yuuri thinks he’s miscalculated, completely misread the innuendo whispering between Viktor’s words.

_Something that would excite me._

His skin burns under Viktor’s fingers, when he reaches to tilt Yuuri’s chin up. The startled flinch, the way Yuuri’s eyes — uncertain and confused — snap back up to Viktor’s face, isn’t at all unexpected.

“I love it when you’re naughty.” Viktor says it like it’s a secret, liking how it fits in his mouth. Liking that Yuuri is the only one who knows the way it sounds.

Something in his tone makes Yuuri’s eyes darken, makes the flush on his cheeks deepen, and Viktor can feel the way he tenses, the way Yuuri’s breath catches in his throat. “It most certainly _excites_ me,” he continues, as his fingers slide to a stretch across Yuuri’s chin, holding him steady, “the thought of _punishing_ you.”

Yuuri’s eyes widen, breath stuttering across his lips. “Vi-Vik—”

Viktor doesn’t let him finish. His lips descend in a crushing kiss, tongue chasing after Yuuri’s. Yuuri tastes like wine and simmering want, and all Viktor wants to do is drink it down. Inhale him, every part, deep into himself. Viktor’s body slams roughly against his, a hand curling over Yuuri’s hip, pressing Yuuri’s tie against it. Maybe Yuuri can feel it, the difference. The way Viktor’s fingers dig into the tender flesh, leaving a shadow of his fingers on pale skin. The way Viktor’s mouth, his tongue, his teeth crash down upon him — relentless and unyielding. The sea at night, surging up to meet the stars, pulling them down from the sky.

There’s a muffled note of surprise in Yuuri’s mouth, which slides quickly into a low moan, Viktor’s teeth raking across his lower lip, harsh and demanding and bruising.

Viktor wants to _devour_ him, wants to claim every part of him, right here, in public, where anyone might walk in.

Viktor almost hopes someone does. Feels the thrill of it, a hot rush down his spine. It wouldn’t be a terrible thing for someone to walk in on them, when he’s buried inside of Yuuri, pounding him raw.

Let them see us, he thinks, as he sucks Yuuri’s tongue into his mouth. Let them watch, the way they watched Yuuri gyrating his hips slowly on the dance floor earlier. _Let them see just who Yuuri belongs to._

It’s the same feeling. What it felt like, on the ice. That drive, quiet and dark. Kiss me, Yuuri’s lips had been saying. Look at me, his eyes were saying. Just me — no one else matters. And Viktor did.

Viktor breaks the kiss, and the hot, frantic press of Yuuri’s breath fans across his lips. Yuuri is staring up at him, dazed, pupils blown dark and wide behind his glasses, a quiet hunger swimming just below the surface. His fingers have come to a desperate clutch on Viktor’s sleeves. It’s as if he’s scared that if he doesn’t hold onto Viktor like this, he might lose himself completely. Like he might be blown away off the edge of a cliff he’s been barely clinging to, feet only just touching the surface.

But that’s just the thing.

Viktor _wants_ Yuuri to lose himself.

He wants his surrender, complete and unconditional.

He wants him to plummet off that cliff, and drag him down into the sea that is Viktor.

He wants them to drown on each other.

“Are you ready for your punishment, Yuuri?” Viktor’s voice is deceptively soft, accompanied with a dark smile, as his thumb shifts over Yuuri’s chin and drags itself across the plump, glistening curve of Yuuri’s mouth, far too slowly for it to be anything other than a promise of what’s coming. _This is mine_ , it says in its claim across Yuuri’s mouth.

_You are mine, to do with what I want._

A shuddered breath.

Viktor feels the dark quake that goes down the entire length of Yuuri’s spine.

Yuuri doesn’t quite say _yes_ , and he doesn’t say _please_ , but his lips part, and the hot, wet flicker of Yuuri’s tongue brush against the pad of Viktor’s thumb. And then, Yuuri sucks the digit slowly into his mouth, tongue swirling slowly around, like it’s Viktor’s cock, slowly fucking its way into his mouth, instead of his thumb. His eyes burn like hot, simmering coals, dark and glowing with want, as they look up at Viktor, lips curved beautifully around what fills his mouth.

Yuuri _moans_ , dark lashes fluttering with it.

A hot throb lances straight through Viktor, his cock straining against the front of his pants.

It’s painful, almost, the way it presses against the seam, trapped in too much fabric and need.

“ _Fuck—_ ” he whispers, his breath humid and hot as it rushes past his lips, and he shoves his thumb forward, pushing it deep into Yuuri’s mouth. The way Yuuri’s tongue curls around the plunging digit is maddening, and Viktor groans as he rocks forward, lets the bulge in his pants grind up against the ridge of Yuuri’s hip, desperate for any kind of friction. It burns through him, and Viktor has to bite back a gasp as he grinds himself against Yuuri slowly. Yuuri’s fingers grasp at him, pulling him closer, tugging him at the waist, curling into the fabric of his suit jacket. It’s like he wants to feel more of Viktor’s cock, pressing against him. Like if he keeps pulling, he might somehow manage to pull Viktor right inside of him.

Yuuri whimpers, a beautiful sound; he sucks a little harder, and Viktor starts to plunge his thumb in and out of Yuuri’s lovely, hungry mouth.  

There’s a fire burning in Yuuri’s eyes, which are frantic with need and black as pitch. Viktor feels the spark twisting through his gut, wild and hot and vicious. He jerks his thumb out of Yuuri’s mouth, which parts with a harsh gasp of breath, and Yuuri presses into him, chasing after him, fingers scrabbling upwards as they yank at Viktor’s necktie, tugging him back against his mouth. His breath is ripe with desperation and the sweetness of red wine. Viktor thinks he can grow drunk, swallowing down Yuuri’s breath like it’s the only thing he knows how to breathe.

_(Maybe it is.)_

Their teeth clash, and then Yuuri makes a harsh, whining sound, his mouth a desperate, needy thing against Viktor’s. Hungry, devouring, insatiable. His tongue slips into Viktor’s mouth, and Viktor moans, letting it in, letting Yuuri hold him there for a moment and fuck his mouth with it, sliding into him, slippery and wet and _hot_ — and Viktor pushes Yuuri forward, shoving him back roughly against the sink. Gives a suck of that tongue, fucking him. Yuuri’s fingers slip, one hand slamming down to catch his grip against the ledge, the other hand still curled tightly in Viktor’s tie, holding him in place.

His teeth graze roughly over Viktor’s lower lip and he _bites_ , and Viktor groans, heat spiraling furiously inside of him.  

“ _Viktor_ ,” Yuuri breathes out against Viktor’s mouth, between plunges of his tongue and dangerous little nips of teeth. His entire body trembles uncontrollably, and he tries to rut against Viktor, his cock rubbing against Viktor’s hip. “I want— _Please._ ”

 _Touch me_ , he doesn’t say, but Viktor hears it, the desperation in his words.

Viktor slowly breaks the kiss and pulls away, a gossamer web of spit threading between their mouths. He flicks his tongue out and breaks it, then says, slowly, evenly, trying his best to control his breath and not pant out the words, “What do you want, Yuuri?”

Yuuri blushes beautifully under the intensity of Viktor’s gaze. He worries his lower lip between his teeth as his fingers slowly slide down to the buckle of Viktor’s belt, starting to unwork the fastening. “I want—I want you to…” he whispers, and it’s painfully adorable, the way he shyly says the words, as though he doesn’t know how to ask Viktor what they both know Yuuri has no trouble demanding. The way his fingers shake when he undoes Viktor’s belt. As though he hasn’t done this countless times.  As though this thing between them is something newly discovered, and Yuuri is doing this for the first time.

“What do you want me to do? I’m not a mind reader,” Viktor says, the smirk curling across his lips a cruel, vicious thing. “You’ll have to say it properly, if you want me to understand.”

Yuuri’s fingers pause, and his eyes squeeze shut for a moment. Viktor watches him shake, watches the way his breath comes out of him like Viktor’s got him by the cock, stroking him. His flush deepens three shades and he swallows hard, before he looks up at Viktor, coquettish, demure. _Almost._ “I want…” he starts out, and then his line of sight drops down to Viktor’s mouth.

“Yes, Yuuri?”

“I want you…”

“ _Where_ do you want me?”

“ _Inside_ ,” Yuuri practically gasps, his face glowing as he ducks his head. What stands before Viktor now isn’t at all the Yuuri that had stripped off his clothes in front of a hundred people. This isn’t the Yuuri that had taken him by the balls earlier and insisted _yes_ , they should do this. This is Yuuri, beautiful and blushing, shy in all the ways Viktor knows he isn’t, too embarrassed to express what he really wants. This is Yuuri, abandoning the clasp of Viktor’s pants, to slowly undo Viktor’s tie. This is Yuuri, desperate and needy, ripe and ready for the taking, and he’s _all_ Viktor’s.

Viktor watches the way Yuuri trembles before him, like Viktor’s an earthquake that had broken through the very core of him. He lets Yuuri undo his tie, but then yanks it from Yuuri’s fingers, dropping it on the counter, along with the one he had been holding. Yuuri’s glasses join the mess of silk a second later, plucked off his face by Viktor’s fingers.

“Inside _where_?” Viktor asks, almost an afterthought.

“Eh?” Yuuri hadn’t expected the question. He must’ve thought Viktor would’ve been satisfied with his answer — _inside_ , he’d said, and that should have been enough. Normally, it wouldn’t take much more than that for Viktor to give him exactly what he needs.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand. You’ll have to be _specific._ Do you want me in here?” Viktor asks, as he spreads his index and middle finger against Yuuri’s mouth in a slow, luxurious brush, and Yuuri’s breath rushes out over his fingers.

“ _Viktor—_ ”

“Or do you want me somewhere else?”

“I want you to— I— _You know where!_ ” Yuuri protests, his face burning with equal parts need and embarrassment.

“I want to hear you say the words,” Viktor says. He drags his fingers down the side of Yuuri’s hot face, slowly grinding his cock against Yuuri’s hip. “I want to hear filthy things coming out of this beautiful mouth.”  

“Viktor—”

“I want you to _beg_.”

Yuuri’s eyes blow wide, and he whimpers, his lower lip trembling slightly as his fingers come to a halt on Viktor’s chest. Viktor’s got him blocked in, arms framing either side of him, and there’s nowhere for Yuuri to run. He stares, somewhat helplessly, as though he’s trying to find some way out. For a moment, it almost looks like Yuuri might give up. Might not be able to say the words. But then, he squeezes his eyes shut. “I want you to fuck me,” he whispers, his voice a desperate rush of breath. “I—I want you—in my—ass. _Please_ Viktor… I—I _need_ you—”

Yuuri doesn’t see the smirk that cuts out across Viktor’s face.

“Yuuri~” Viktor says his name so sweetly, that Yuuri dares to open his eyes. He startles at the look on Viktor’s face — predatory and dark. “All you had to do was ask.”

Suddenly, Viktor grabs him by the hip and whirls him around, and the gasp that rips out of Yuuri’s throat echoes through the bathroom. He’s slammed back against Viktor’s front, a loud cry leaving his lips as Viktor’s hand crushes gently over the hard bulge at the front of his pants. The heat of Viktor’s cock grinds roughly against his ass, his breath steaming hot over the curve of Yuuri’s ear, teeth nipping as he sucks at the sensitive lobe as Yuuri grinds back against him, his body a resounding _yes_.

Viktor palms Yuuri roughly through his pants, fingers easily finding the fat head of Yuuri’s cock through layers of fine Italian silk. He can feel the wetness of him, dampening the material of his pants.

Fuck, Viktor thinks, as Yuuri shakes in his arms, undulating against his teasing fingers.

Yuuri’s _dripping_ already, and Viktor has barely _touched_ him.

The sound Yuuri makes when Viktor pulls him out of the confines of clothing is a desperate whine. He’s so hard, pulsing in Viktor’s grip, the head of his cock ruddy and sticky with need. Viktor slowly squeezes, stroking up the shaft, loving the hot, velvet feel of Yuuri’s sensitive skin under his fingertips. He runs his fingers over the glistening glans, humming appreciatively into Yuuri’s skin, as precome gushes past his fingers, thick and slippery and very, very wet.

“Look at how wet you are,” Viktor whispers, and Yuuri shudders in his arms. “What a naughty boy, dripping all over my fingers. You must have been thinking very, _very_ dirty things when we were dancing.”

“ _Yes_ ,” Yuuri admits, his voice nearly inaudible, and he chokes out a moan as Viktor’s fingers start to pump steadily, the glide easy. He doesn’t even need to lick a stripe down his palm to give him more ease — Yuuri’s already so aroused, so slick.

Viktor’s eyes travel up past Yuuri’s shoulder to their reflection, and what he sees makes his breath catch in his throat. Yuuri is leaning heavily against him, head rolled back slightly against Viktor’s shoulder, eyes squeezed shut with pleasure, mouth dropped open with a gasp. He’s red from the tips of his ears, all the way down his chest — the flush, a lovely, glowing thing that fades as it meets his nipples. His chest heaves with each shuddering breath, abdominal muscles rippling, as he rocks his swollen cock into Viktor’s stroking hand. Fucking himself on Viktor’s hand, torturously slow.

Precome splatters on tile.

 _Drips_ from the core of him.

Yuuri whimpers and jerks his hips, his fingers curled tightly over the edge of the sink, the movement abrupt and sudden and completely uncontrolled, when Viktor tightens his grip.

“Is this what you were imagining?”

“ _Yes_.”

With a pleased sound, Viktor’s teeth scrape over the curve of Yuuri’s neck, sucking at his racing pulsepoint, and Yuuri cries out at the feeling of Viktor’s tongue, the heat of it prickling over his skin. Viktor thinks he can taste the beat of Yuuri’s heart — thinks he can hold it in his mouth. He can swallow it down, that beat. Hold it deep inside himself. Let the rhythm of his own heart slam against it, until they beat together, as one. He yanks Yuuri’s pants and underwear down with his free hand, letting them pool around his ankles, and reaches past Yuuri for the bottle of lotion that sits next to the cannister of soap.

The lotion is cool as it slicks across his fingers.

And then he’s sliding them down, into the hot cleft of Yuuri’s ass, the pads of his fingers rubbing slowly against the sensitive pucker, gliding over ridges and grooves in a slow tease. Yuuri presses back against him, so needy for it, and Viktor sucks in a slow, audible breath through his nose as Yuuri opens for him with a low, keening moan, the secret heat of him sending a heady rush through Viktor.

It’s incredible, the way Yuuri melts into his touch. The way his body draws him in, as though Yuuri can’t get enough of being filled up by Viktor. It doesn’t seem like Yuuri even really cares _what_ part of Viktor makes it in, so long as it’s _Viktor_ that’s pressing into him. Viktor, inside of him, spreading him apart. Viktor, fucking him open, with his fingers or his tongue or his cock.

Viktor lets the pad of his finger graze over Yuuri’s prostate, teasing the tight bundle of nerves as he slides his finger out, and then presses back in with another, shuddering into Yuuri’s skin at the tight resistance. He knows — it’s much too soon, and the sharp gasp Yuuri makes is laced with as much pleasure as it is pain. Yuuri tenses, a whimper-whine at the back of his throat, knuckles white for a moment, as he eases back on what splits him apart. Viktor knows — the pleasure is as good as the pain, and the pain is what makes it _whole._ The pain reminds Yuuri of how it feels to be truly _devoured_ —fucked in a way that’s more of a claiming of him than it is lovemaking. Letting himself be remade, reworked.

“Shhh…” Viktor whispers, tonguing Yuuri’s ear. “You’re doing wonderfully,” he says, as the fingers he has wrapped around Yuuri’s cock glide, _twist_ around the leaking head to distract him. It works just the way he had hoped — Yuuri’s whimper turns into more of a low moan, and he presses forward into Viktor’s touch, before sliding back again onto his fingers. It’s slow, the way he adjusts to Viktor, to the feeling of having a part of Viktor inside him again, which he hasn’t had since they arrived in Barcelona.

Viktor had insisted upon it — had wanted to ensure that Yuuri would be in peak condition for the Grand Prix Final. There was too much at stake. Too much to lose. Even though their lovemaking would be more a slide of bodies against one another, one fitting inside of the other, all breath and warm skin and sweet pleasure, Viktor couldn’t promise that he wouldn’t leave Yuuri aching. That it wouldn’t, somehow, affect his skating. And so, he took Yuuri into himself, instead. Held him down on their bed and entwined their fingers together as he rode him slowly, and reveled in the way Yuuri looked up at him, wide-eyed and _gone_.

Viktor knows that Yuuri’s world encompasses much more than the boundaries of himself; that it is filled up with his love for the ice, his friends, his family, and Viktor. It is full and rich with laughter and love and bright, wide smiles, and Viktor is lucky that he inhabits one small corner of Yuuri’s life.

But for Viktor, Yuuri is so much more.

Yuuri is _everything_ , his entire world.

There are times when Viktor selfishly wants to be everything to Yuuri, too. When he wants Yuuri to want him, to need him, just as much as he needs Yuuri. When he wants Yuuri to feel what it is that he feels — like nothing else matters, outside of this. Not the call of the ice, or the rush of competition, or the weight of gold medals. Just the way it feels when they are together like this, when Yuuri cries out, his voice loud and unabashed, resonating through the bathroom as Viktor’s fingers split him open.

“Tell me how it feels, Yuuri.”

“ _Good_ —it’s so good—” Yuuri gasps, moaning wantonly as his body rocks back to meet him, each time Viktor’s fingers push into him, curling deep inside.

In the mirror, Yuuri’s eyes are glassy with lust, pupils blown wide, face glowing with arousal. His hair is plastered against his forehead from the sheen of sweat that had broken out on his skin, and his mouth hangs open with each shuddering gasp. He’s all fire and restless need that burns into Viktor, and it takes every shred of self-control for Viktor to not just open his pants and take him right there, hard and fast and brutally perfect.

Viktor loves what he sees reflected back at him — this wild, desperate thing. Loves how vulnerable and open he looks, standing there before him, naked and hard and wanting, with Viktor’s fingers buried deep inside of him, when Viktor is still covered from wrist to ankle.

“You like my fingers inside of you?”

“ _Mmn—yes_ …”

“You like being punished for teasing me all night long?”

Yuuri flushes with the question, and resists answering, brow twisted in pleasure.

“That’s not an answer,” Viktor says calmly. He rests his chin on Yuuri’s shoulder, and lets his fingers still inside of Yuuri’s body, the hand stroking Yuuri’s cock stopping. He holds him instead, squeezes just under the head, loving how Yuuri just drips and _drips_ , all over his fingers and onto the floor.  

Yuuri whimpers, shaking in his arms. “Viktor… _please_.”

“Please, what?”

Yuuri pauses for a moment, as though he’s suddenly remembering that Viktor had wanted him to beg. Had wanted to hear _filthy things_ coming out of his beautiful mouth. He swallows, his tongue a nervous flash of pink as it runs over his lips. “Please,” he whispers, voice trembling. “Punish me more.”

A surge of arousal shoots straight to Viktor’s cock, the way Yuuri begs to be _punished_ , the thrill of it like fire in his belly.

“Oh, Yuuri,” Viktor breathes out, words shuddering. “I’m going to enjoy seeing how beautiful you are when I’m finished with you~”  

And suddenly, his fingers are a hard, driving force straight into the root of Yuuri —  he fucks into him deep, as the hand around Yuuri’s cock slides away to curl around the back of Yuuri’s neck so that he can press him down and hold him against the counter of the sink. Yuuri presses his face against his wrist, squeezes his eyes shut— and _screams_ , the sound of it muffled by flesh and the salacious wet squelching of Viktor’s lotioned fingers sliding in and out of him. His thighs tremble with the exertion of staying upright as his ass bounces, trying to drive back against Viktor’s plunging fingers, clenching so wonderfully around the digits spreading into the darkest part of him.

“Yes— _yes!_ Viktor—” Yuuri cries out, between harsh whimpers of breath, body shaking with the pleasure driving him apart.

“ _Beautiful_ ,” Viktor says, voice harsh with desire as his fingers slam into Yuuri, spreading him until he’s raw. “You’re so beautiful like this.” He wants him to ache for him, to need more than just his fingers fucking him. To want Viktor in the deepest part of him, filling him up. He wants Yuuri to want him more than he’s ever wanted anything in his life. To need him like he needs _breath._

Yuuri’s cries out hoarsely into the crook of his arm, fingers a tight fist of tension as his hips wildly undulate. His neck burns hot and damp under Viktor’s grip, and for a moment, there’s only this — the sound of his cries as they bounce off the tiled walls, the slap of his skin as Viktor’s fingers pound into him.  

Viktor loves how Yuuri loses himself in this, when he gives himself over to pleasure; when he surrenders himself completely. When he lets himself forget that they’re in a bathroom, in public, not even a hundred feet away from the banquet, where anyone can walk in and catch them, at any moment.

If it wasn’t for that fact, Viktor thinks he might have liked to take his time with this.

Could have done this for _hours_ , fucking Yuuri with his fingers, taking him right to that blinding edge. Over and over and over, until Yuuri can’t take it anymore, and almost uses his safe word, begging Viktor to fuck him already — _please, please, I need it, fuck me, fuck me, please_ — and Viktor would. It would be hard and fast and _brutal_ and even Yuuri, with his insatiable hunger and impossible stamina, wouldn’t be able to handle another round. They would lie in bed, boneless and satisfied, and Yuuri would dazedly stare at the ceiling and say, _wow_. And then maybe, the next day, Viktor might wake up to Yuuri looking up at him, eyes blazing hot and dark, and filled with promise, and know that it would be his turn to beg.

“You’re doing so well for me,” Viktor says as he lets go of Yuuri’s neck in favor of undoing his pants. “Are you ready to let me in, Yuuri?”

It’s utterly lewd, the way Yuuri lifts his ass in response, the way he moans Viktor’s name as he arches his back, an invitation for _more_.

“Viktor,” he says, but it’s not at all what Viktor wants.

His hand pauses, zipper half-down, fingers pausing in Yuuri’s ass, and he arches an eyebrow, as he looks at Yuuri in the mirror. At the way Yuuri is staring at his hand, the opening of his pants, with a kind of raw hunger like a man who’s _starved_. Viktor knows what it's like, to need something so badly, it’s all you can feel. The hunger is an overwhelming, violent thing that splits you apart and empties you out.

Until it is all that you are.

The madness of it, the ache of needing to be _filled_.

“Say it properly,” Viktor says, and it’s a _command_.

Yuuri trembles under it, whimpers at the back of his throat.

“Please… fuck me, Viktor.”

It’s a mere whisper, but it’s good enough.

Viktor inhales sharply at what he hears in Yuuri’s voice, trembling through each syllable — need, dark and vicious, curling around the very root of him.

He yanks the zipper of his pants the rest of the way out, then reaches inside.

“ _Fuck—”_ Viktor’s breath comes out harsh, eyes slamming shut at the feeling of what wraps around him, as his fingers twine around himself. His cock throbs, _aches_ , heat slamming through him in a punch of fire and white-hot _want_ , and Viktor’s almost choking with how much he _needs_ to be inside of Yuuri.

A violent quake shakes its way down his spine, ending somewhere at the base of his cock.

He’s so hard, and had gone without direct simulation for so long, that touching himself now, in slow, careful strokes, is almost painful.

Viktor can feel his heartbeat, pulsing in his cock, and he breathes slowly, through his nose. Trying to get used to the sensation of his hand, working its way up and down his shaft, so that he doesn’t come the moment he buries himself in Yuuri.

Yuuri watches him in the mirror with wide-eyed wonder, lower lip pinched between his teeth as he trains his gaze on Viktor’s cock, which is heavy, and engorged with blood, the fat head swollen and dripping over his stroking fingers.

“ _Viktor…_ ” he says again, and this time it’s an impatient whine, and Yuuri tries to push back once more on the fingers still buried in his ass. Needing something moving, driving deep inside.

“Now, now,” Viktor manages to say, almost chiding, despite the way he has to fight the trembles rising to his surface. “No need to be impatient, Yuuri.”

The sound Yuuri makes when Viktor extracts his fingers is frustrated and full of unbridled need. He straightens up again, pulling himself up from where he had his cheek pressed against the sink. Yuuri’s eyes, in the mirror, dart back to Viktor’s cock, and his tongue flicks out past his lips, slicking them wet. He stares, hungrily, at what Viktor holds in his hand. His eyes are something dark and possessive, that look at Viktor, at what he holds, and tells Viktor only one thing:

Viktor belongs to Yuuri, as much as Yuuri belongs to him.

“Oh,” Viktor whispers, a soft, gentle thing, and Yuuri’s eyes flick back up to his face. “Did you think you could _watch_?” he asks, a sly smile curling his lips. He reaches for the edge of Yuuri’s tie, and yanks it out from under Yuuri’s curled fist on the sink, and then releases himself, as he steps forward with the tie, which he stretches out before Yuuri’s face.  

Yuuri stares at it for a moment, flush deepening, and then he tilts his chin up, pressing his face forward, to let Viktor wrap the makeshift blindfold around his head, surrendering his vision to him.

The dark blue silk band covers Yuuri’s eyes and brow, folding neatly over the bridge of his nose. All Viktor can make out of Yuuri’s face is the lower half of his face and strip of forehead, black hair plastered against the surface of his skin. Like this, Yuuri looks vulnerable and beautiful — mouth slightly parted in anticipation as he takes in slow, shaky breaths.

This isn’t the first time they’ve played with something like this, but it’s never been like this — in _public_.

“Okay?” Viktor asks softly, his mouth at Yuuri’s ear, and Yuuri startles, shoulders jerking back slightly, surprised at the sudden heat that floods through him. His face burns under the silk, a lovely red that Viktor knows will only darken when he starts fucking him.

Yuuri nods, and Viktor smiles, pressing a soft kiss against Yuuri’s shoulder, then nuzzles into his neck.

Yuuri melts under the kiss, sighing softly as he relaxes back against Viktor, who reaches past him for the lotion again, liberally coating his fingers.

“You’ve been _such_ a good boy,” Viktor whispers into Yuuri’s skin, mouthing slow, simmering kisses over the length of Yuuri’s neck. Yuuri shudders with the praise, mouth parting with it, and Viktor groans softly as he wraps his slick fingers around himself again, coating his dick with the viscous substance. Watching as Yuuri tilts his head slightly, listening. Anticipating _exactly_ what Viktor’s doing. “Are you ready for your reward~?”

Yuuri whimpers beautifully, and nods his head, sliding his ass back towards Viktor again. _Presenting_.

This is yours, he seems to say, as he arches his back again, leaning forward towards the sink so that his ass rises higher in the air. He spreads his legs, and Viktor sighs softly at the vision of him — trembling underneath him, nearly mad with need.

The sound hitches higher in Yuuri’s voice when Viktor guides the fat head of his cock to Yuuri’s twitching entrance, slowly rubbing.

“ _Viktor_ —!” Yuuri sobs, the tremble inside of him breaking out into a violent shake, as he tries to push himself back onto Viktor, knuckles white as he clenches his fists. “Please— _please_ , I need it—I need you. Please don’t tease anymore. I can’t—”

Viktor pushes in, slowly working his way into tight, scorching heat that slams back into him. He almost chokes on it, the pleasure of being so deep inside of Yuuri, of spreading him wide open with his cock. Of burying himself inside of him — this wonderful, _beautiful_ man whose edges define his entire universe; who had taught him the meaning of love and life and all that falls between.

Viktor groans, a low, shuddering sound of breath and too much _everything_ all at once — too much desire, too much need, too much love. So much of it, he’s bursting, filled up to the brink. Feels it, sliding into the deepest part of him, as he slides all the way inside Yuuri. He can barely even recognize how Yuuri’s name shudders at the edge of his tongue, how he presses his forehead against Yuuri’s bared back, which is as hot as a million exploding stars. Yuuri — whose life Viktor rotates around, a satellite turning its face towards the light of the sun.

For a few, shuddering, long moments, it is like this:

Viktor, buried balls-deep inside of Yuuri, gasping into his back and trying not to lose it, one hand clutching at Yuuri’s hip, the other buried in black hair. He’s got Yuuri held down again, against the sink, and Yuuri presses his mouth against his fist, trying his best not to scream.

But then, Viktor straightens up. His gaze washes over Yuuri, taking in the sight of him — his heaving shoulder blades, his upturned ass. Yuuri is whimpering softly into his fist, and Viktor — Viktor wants to hear _more_ of those lovely sounds coming out of him.

And so, there’s nothing gentle, nothing slow, about the way he slides his hips back and then _snaps_ them forward — a moan gathering at the back of his throat as Yuuri, all velvet heat and exquisite tightness, clenches around the thickness of him, as he grinds his way into the deepest part of him. Yuuri’s cries fill the bathroom as Viktor fucks him open, drives into him so hard, his entire body slams forward with the motion, and his hands desperately scrabble at the surface of the counter, for something — _anything_ — to hold onto.

There’s a litany of breathless sound, curling out of Yuuri’s mouth, filled with Viktor’s name and something else — pleading, begging, wanton moans, _yes_ and _oh god_ and _harder please_. Harder, Viktor, _deeper_ , still.

Viktor gives him exactly what it is he needs.

It’s all he knows how to do — giving Yuuri what he wants, what he deserves. Giving Yuuri all of himself, which isn’t really Viktor’s, anymore, because there isn’t a part of him that doesn’t belong to Yuuri. Not since the moment Viktor looked across the room from him, a year ago, and discovered the sun he wanted to rotate around.

“Yuuri—” he rasps, heat spiraling wildly inside of him.

Yuuri is _wild_ underneath him, completely lost in the feeling of Viktor driving into him. He’s so drunk on it, the feeling of Viktor fucking him open, the raw pleasure that inundates him, that he doesn’t hear what Viktor sees — the door directly behind them opening.

A pair of brown eyes widen in surprise.

Phichit stands in the open doorway, as he stares in shock at the lurid sight before him — Viktor’s clothed back, thrusting hips — flushing a deep red. And then, his eyes _gleam_ with delight, hands flailing before him, as his mouth drops open. Just behind him, Christophe slips into view, and he takes one look at what’s happening in the bathroom — eyes connecting with Viktor’s in the mirror — and clamps a hand over Phichit’s squeak of excitement that would have given them away.

Phichit flails, gripping at Christophe’s hand, and all Viktor can do — as Yuuri cries out, the salacious slap of flesh against flesh punctuating each breath — is smirk, and he looks at Christophe in the mirror. His fingers dig into Yuuri’s hip, and he drives in even harder — a harsh slap of the hips — and Yuuri _screams_.

Christophe gives him a thumbs up, with a wink and a conspiratorial grin, as Phichit’s eyes widen even more.

Viktor watches as Christophe pulls Phichit, arms and legs flailing, backwards, and out of the bathroom entirely.

The door swings shut silently behind them.

Viktor stares.

He can’t _believe_ what he’s just managed to get away with.

The shock of it makes his hips halt, silent laughter shaking through his body, head spinning with the high of having been caught, by Phichit and _Christophe_ , of all people.

(He couldn’t have had better luck. Had it been _anyone_ else, Viktor’s quite certain this all would have come to an abrupt end.)

“Viktor—!” Yuuri’s voice is high, broken with frustrated need, writhing desperately beneath him. “Don’t stop!”

“So demanding,” Viktor teases, mind still reeling, heart thundering in his chest, as he strokes a hand through sweat-damp hair, then takes hold of the hot curve of Yuuri’s nape. The controlling grip draws a soft, keening sound out of the back of Yuuri’s throat.

“ _Look at you_ ,” Viktor whispers harshly, as he slowly starts to thrust, eyes washing over Yuuri, dropping down to where they are so lewdly connected. Watching as his cock moves in and out of Yuuri. “Look at how beautiful you are,” he says, voice filled with breathless wonder, as his gaze flicks up the entire length of Yuuri’s spine, to his face. Viktor can make out the slope of his jaw, the flush on his cheeks sliding under the blindfold, and the edge of his mouth, where it’s opened in a gasp that disappears behind Yuuri’s hand.

He’s sweaty, skin blotchy, hair mussed — completely wrecked — and he’s _all_ Viktor’s.

“Viktor…” Yuuri whines, wanting something harder, rougher — a pounding at the core of him. Not this slow, leisurely grind of Viktor into him. Viktor knows — Yuuri wants to feel the edges of him bent under Viktor’s hands, to be worked around his cock until it’s all Yuuri knows — Viktor’s cock, filling him up, making him wonderfully whole. Yuuri, who draws Viktor into him, pulling him in, until every part of Viktor is buried inside of him — and Viktor loses himself, lets himself fall, plunging into the depths of Yuuri, crashing into everything that he is.

Their bodies slam into one another, shuddering and fast and violent like the colliding of stars. It’s frantic and wild, sacred, like the birth of the universe, snapping wide and open between them, sprawling out furious and bright and so full of breath and life and love and — _Yuuri, Yuuri, Yuuri_ — like a prayer on Viktor’s tongue.

They come together, their voices rising as one.

 

*

 

Outside the bathroom, Phichit tries not to _explode_.

He can’t _believe_ what he just walked in on — what he saw. Yuuri, bent over the sink, and Viktor — _having sex with Yuuri in public_ — smirking at Christophe and him, like he expected they’d been walked in on. Oh god. Oh _god_. Phichit’s trying very hard not to hyperventilate as he flails an arm in the direction of the bathroom, hand pulling at Christophe’s arm.

“Chris!” he blurts out, voice a wheeze. “Oh my god, Chris! They were just—! Holy smokes.” A squeak comes out of Phichit’s mouth, and his entire face burns with equal parts embarrassment and guilty excitement. He feels like he should be scandalized, but he’s just — _really thrilled_ — because Yuuri sounded like he was having the time of his _life_.

Wow.

Is that what it’s like to be in love?

“I _know._ ” Christophe just grins, eyebrows rising. “Don’t tell Yuuri, okay? I don’t think he knew we were there.”

Of _course_ Yuuri didn’t know! If he had known that _anyone_ was standing in the doorway, he definitely wouldn’t have sounded like _that_. Phichit can’t imagine any possible reality, where _Katsuki Yuuri_ would have been comfortable with anyone walking in on him having sex. He can only imagine how ashamed Yuuri would be, how terribly regretful he would feel, of having done something like this.

Phichit realizes that he’s going to have to take this secret to his _grave_.

Yuuri must _never_ know.

“I won’t tell him,” he says, and falls into a stunned, awkward silence.

“Wanna go get a drink?” Christophe suggests, after a moment.

“A drink would be _great_ right now,” Phichit says, and tries not to melt into the floor, when they walk past the bathroom again, moans sliding underneath the door. He blushes all the way to the roots of his hair, and clutches Christophe’s arm like a lifeline. “Chris... has Viktor always been like that?”

Christophe just smirks.

“Oh, Phichit,” he breathes. “You have _no_ idea.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! This thing took nearly a month of my life... I had the most difficult time writing from Viktor's POV, but I guess that's why it was a challenge. I hope you all liked it! I had a lot of fun writing it, in the end. 
> 
> Thanks so much to [powerandpathos](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/powerandpathos) for helping me edit the hell out of this thing.
> 
> If you guys would like to read more of my writing, I have another ongoing multi-chapter YOI fic, [which you can read here!](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9083284/chapters/20654497) As of Feb 1, 2017, it's currently over 37,000 words and is a semi-retelling of the events of YOI through the competitive world of the music industry (which I'm a part of, so it's actually very realistic in some ways)! There isn't porn in it yet, but there will be quite a lot of it down the road. :3 
> 
> I also plan on writing more YOI one-shots, so if you'd like to read more, please subscribe!
> 
>  **Edit:** Ah... ^^;; I should mention this -- if you're under the age of 18 and reading this, please keep it a secret from me! ^^;;;;;;;
> 
>   
> **If you liked this fic, please leave kudos or share with your friends! Or leave a comment if you'd like to see more.**
> 
> Thanks so much for reading! You can find me on Tumblr at [subtextually.tumblr.com](http://subtextually.tumblr.com) if you'd like to chat! ^^


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